Daniel and I parted company this morning. He to go to the Colosseum again with a brief to draw some part of it and thence to the airport and home; me on to the next stop south, Campobasso. On the way I visited Monte Cassino, the monastery founded by St Benedict and destroyed during the second world war (and rebuilt again afterwards). I had been here once before with friend Italian Pino in the 1970s. I took the opportunity to call into his village - Monteroduni - nearby to see if he was still around. I'd already written several weeks prior about my intention to visit but received no response. Nonetheless, I was determined to call. Spoke to someone in the village post office and I was told that Pino's mum and did were alive and lived in the village.
I called in to see them and had coffee and a good chat. Although I had only stayed a single night all those years ago they still remembered me - although they had to think hard at first. Pino now lives in Florence and his dad gave me his contact details. Shall follow this up. Apparently, the postcard which I had so carefully written had failed to arrive. How irritating!
My lodgings at Campobasso were in a pleasant farm B&B - what they call an agriturismo. It was great to have a room of my own with towels and a bathroom to myself for a change. Oh! the luxury. The lady of the house did me proud witha fabulous supper and breakfast. Countryside round here is lovely - pretty almost and reminds me a little of South Armagh in Ireland where I spent my summer holdidays as a boy in Ireland.
Love the idea that the Italian post office knows who lives where but can't quite deliver a postcard to them.
ReplyDeleteThey can deliver cards but I'm told that when there's a strike (and there was industrial action recently) the mail builds up at the sorting offices. Postcards are deemed to be expendable, so the Italian Post Office burns them!
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